


Small but Savage

by Legs (InsanityRule)



Series: A Modicum of Humanity Makes Everything Harder [11]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 07:37:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11286666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanityRule/pseuds/Legs
Summary: An aforementioned first meeting of one Bruce Wayne and Victor Zsasz.





	Small but Savage

“Boss, why’s there a kid here?” Zsasz asks, leaning over, whispering to Don Falcone while he eyeballs the short-stuff across the hall. “You didn’t say anything about kids.”

“Why he’s here is not your concern Victor,” Falcone tells him. “Your only job is to ensure the safety of my guests, and he is included.”

Zsasz gnaws on his lip, but he nods, “fine.”

“Just keep to the edges of the room and try to look relaxed. These are all old friends and allies. I don’t expect there to be any trouble.”

-

“You want me to what?”

“Victor, I need to speak with Mr. Wayne privately,” Falcone explains.

“So call the babysitter,” Zsasz whispers, a little growly and very under caffeinated. He should’ve stopped by Tawny’s cafe before the party started. “Or the kid’s  _ mom _ ?”

“Really Carmine, we can always meet another time to talk business,” this  _ Mr. Wayne  _ says. For the record, Zsasz isn’t a fan. Although the kid holding onto his left hand isn’t snot covered, small miracles. “If I’d known you wanted to talk I would’ve made sure my wife could join me.”

“Victor can manage to watch such a well behaved young man for an hour.” Like  _ hell  _ he can. What part of him suggests “good with children”? He needs to know, so he can change it  _ now _ .

“I thought I recognized you,” Wayne says, and Zsasz snaps his attention to him. “Victor Zsasz, right?”

He blinks. “Yeah.”

“You have my condolences,” he says. Zsasz can feel a few unnecessary filters in his brain shut down. “I haven’t spoken with your parents for some time, but we used to be close.”

“Sure,” he says. He’s clenching his hand tight enough to leave indents from his nails. He can’t shoot this man, not outside of his fantasies. Within, just picture it, and it’ll be like it happened.

“Thomas, if you’ll step in here with me, I’m sure Victor is more than willing to watch Bruce while we talk,” Carmine says, leading Thomas into one of the conference rooms off the main hall, and Thomas turns for a moment.

“You behave yourself,” he tells Bruce, and Bruce nods. “Good,” he says, smiling, and he pats Bruce on the head before standing up and walking into the room.

“Great,” Zsasz says to himself, breathing in, then out, and turning to Bruce. “So what do you do for kicks?”

“What’s condolescences?”

“What.”

“Con-do-lescenses? What is that?”

“Well you’re making it way harder for yourself for one thing, it’s con- _ do- _ lences, and it’s a thing adults tell someone when they know somebody that died, but don’t have anything else nice to say.”

“Who died?”

Kid’s not beating around the bush. Zsasz admires that. He crouches down so they’re at eye level. “Do you know the meaning of the phrase ‘none of your beeswax’?”

He sighs the sigh of a much,  _ much  _ older man. “Yes.”

“And do you listen?”

He side eyes the door and back to Zsasz, then the floor, and he shrugs. “Sometimes.”

“Well, this is one of those times little man,” Zsasz gives him a firm look, then smiles. “Anyway, looks like we’re stuck with each other.”

“Was is your friend?”

Zsasz stops smiling. “So I take it this isn’t one of those times for you?”

“Was it your mom or dad?”

“You going to keep asking if I don’t answer?” He asks. Bruce nods, and Zsasz takes a big breath in, then out. “Both.”

“That’s why you look sad,” he tells Zsasz.  _ Tells  _ him. “It’s okay to be sad. I would be too.”

Jesus Christ this kid is  _ savage _ . “Nah, it’s probably just indigestion or something. See, I had like, four cups of coffee in an hour. Stomach’s all messed up. I thought my eyeballs would vibrate out of my head.” Bruce laughs. “You think that kind of stuff is funny huh?” He nods a lot, fast. “Course you do.”

“Do you miss them?”

Christ he won’t let Zsasz  _ live _ . “No time pipsqueak. See, what I’m doing right now is  _ work _ . If I’m going to be sad I have to do that on my own time. But don’t sweat it. I’ll sit in the shower, eat a tub of ice cream. I’ll set aside some time to be sad just for you, deal?”

Bruce holds out his hand, and Zsasz shakes it, all business-like and official. “Deal.”

Feels like the kid actually intends to make Zsasz do this later. He shrugs. It won’t be the worst Saturday he’s ever had. “So, what do you do for fun around here anyway?”

“I have books.” He turns, smiling, and drags a few books out of a small bag near the wall. Zsasz pictured well,  _ picture  _ books, not these.

“Lotta words in those books,” he comments. Though there’s not  _ that  _ many words. Kid’s not reading a freaking novel or anything. “What’re you reading?”

“Detective books.” He sits down by the wall and Zsasz sits cross legged in front of him. “There’s a story, and pictures, and you figure out what really happened.”

“You going to be a detective when you grow up?” He’ll have to watch out for this one. Bruce shrugs one shoulder. “Or are you taking after your old man.” Bruce looks up at him. “It means your dad.”

“I know it means dad,” he pouts for a second. “I don’t know. Maybe I can do two things.”

“Two? Pretty ambitious of you.” He nods, eyes back to the book. “Anybody ever tell you you have an old soul kid?”

“No.” Yeah he seems like the kind of kid that would remember that.

“Well, let me be the first to tell you. I bet you have a guy that’s twenty, maybe even  _ thirty  _ in there.”

“I’m six.” But he looks damn proud of himself for the fact.

“Yeah? Well I’m  _ twenty _ -six, and I bet in twenty years you’ll have a way better handle on shit than I do.” Bruce looks at him, wide eyed. “You’re smart enough to know you don’t repeat those words right?”

“Uh huh.” He nods.

“Good.” Last thing he needs is a lecture on corrupting this child. “So what’s our case? Murder? Assault?”

“Someone pushed someone off the swings.”

“You’ll get to the hardcore stuff someday. Maybe when you’re seven.” Bruce sets down the book, closed, and looks up at Zsasz, dead serious. “Or maybe six and a half?”

“My dad is nice.”

“Huh?” He has to backtrack through a post-caffeine haze to remember that shit he said about ten minutes ago. “Well that doesn’t count. He has to be nice to you.”

Bruce shakes his head. “No, he’s nice. I’ve seen it.”

“Yeah well, guys like that aren’t usually nice to guys like me. Not really how the world works kid.”

Bruce studies Zsasz, looking him up and down, and asks, “are you a bad guy?”

“Looks that way kid,” he says, shrugging.

“But you’re nice,” he tells Zsasz.

“Well, sometimes bad guys can be nice little man. And you know what? Nice guys can be dicks sometimes.”

Bruce sits back for a few seconds. “They can be nice  _ and  _ mean.”

“Now you’re getting it,” Zsasz nods, and Bruce smiles, proud little shit. “Now come on, if we’re going to hang out we’re going to solve your cases.” If he’s going to get his future jobs thwarted by some little punk he’s going to be damn sure he’s a  _ smart  _ little punk.


End file.
